Page 54 of A Game So Reckless

I’m in charge of my own life.

At least, in charge of the parts that my papà isn’t.

I enter our cottage, hating the stiff, sticky feeling of my shorts against my skin. As soon as I reach my room, I drag them off, chucking them into a laundry basket. I should probably just throw them away entirely, like I did with my underwear. I’ll never get that blood out.

Told you I wasn’t going to stand by and let you bleed.

My heart, along with the rest of my body, throbs. But it’s not with hate. At least, notonlyhate. And that’s the worst part.

I put on fresh underwear and crawl into my bed. I assume it will take a while to fall asleep after everything that’s happened, but it doesn’t. My body is heavy, sinking into the mattress with strange and shocking force.

Darragh’s altered the state of gravity.

I’m not sure the world – or my body – will ever be the same.

* * *

Like usual, Darragh is gone the next morning. Like nothing even happened at all.

It’s too hot to lie around with a heating pad on my stomach, so I just laze around instead. I watch some old soap opera episodes with Mamma. I paint each fingernail and toenail a different colour.

By the time Mamma’s passed out for the night, Darragh still hasn’t returned. I don’t want to admit it, but that is starting to really piss me off. The fact that he can waltz in and out whenever he pleases, meanwhile I’m the one who’s stuck here. Like I’m fucking waiting for him.

But I’m not. Even if the memory of his demanding hands on my skin has been burning inside me all day.

Feeling trapped inside our big house, I head outside. Tonight is cool. Even cooler than last night. Despite the heat of the sun during the day, autumn is certainly on its way. Any day now I expect that Papà will be dragging us back to the city. Which is good. I can escape the fever dream of this place where time seems to stand still during the day and everything explodes at night.

I rub my hands up and down my arms, enjoying the feel of the thick hoodie I’m wearing. The cool breeze coming in off the lake doesn’t make me cold. I’ve got leggings on as well. My hair rustles as I reach the dock and sit down on it. I draw my knees up to my chest and put my chin on them, gazing out at the black water with its broken wings of white, moonlight on the waves.

“Hey! Sunglasses girl!”

A male voice pulls me from the quiet. I rise and see the blond guy next door sitting on a Muskoka chair. There’s a small bonfire crackling in front of him. He raises a bottle.

“Want a drink?”

Do I want a drink? Not really.

But I also don’t want to keep sitting around here like I’m waiting for Darragh to arrive. I shift from foot to foot, craning my neck to look the other direction at Darragh’s dark cottage. He isn’t there.

And who cares if he is? He doesn’t own me despite whatever he might think about it. Resolution steels my spine.

“Sure,” I call to him.

The guy hesitates, then grins, firelight illuminating his face. “Awesome. Come on over.”

I leave the dock, then pick over the rocky shoreline between our property and the next. I walk up the incline and around the fire to the empty Muskoka chair beside him.

“Wow. Can’t believe I actually got you over here finally,” he says, sending me a crooked smile. “You really keep to yourself, eh?”

I shrug noncommittally.

“I’m Connor,” he says. He opens a cooler between the chairs and pulls out a bottle of beer for me, opening it and passing it over.

“Tina,” I tell him, even though no one’s ever called me Tina in my entire life.

“Tina. Cool. Good to meet you.”

I take a sip of my drink and grimace. Horrid stuff. Connor’s eyes linger on my mouth when I put the bottle down.

---